


Messages from the Wizard's Apprentice

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [4]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Backstory, Brotherhood, Brothers, Gen, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief conversation between a Captain General and a Wizard. Or, if you befriend one of the brothers Hurin, in time you end up the friend of the other as well. And it wasn’t always Faramir running Boromir’s errands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messages from the Wizard's Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story takes place in the same Desperate Hours AU as all of my other LOTR stories, wherein it will later be discovered that Faramir is Aragorn's son.

Gandalf the Gray sighed as his sleeve became adhered yet again to the dried mead on the bar. At least the ale was decent.  
“Sorry for the wait, Mithrandir.” Lord Boromir, the relatively new Captain-General of Gondor’s Armies, apologized sincerely, if not profusely. The sullen bartender perked up at the sight of Denethor’s heir, who apparently frequented this establishment. Boromir took a seat beside the Wizard and grinned at the Barkeep, who brought him his usual drink without prompting.

“I usually meet your brother in the archives, son of Denethor.” The Wizard observed dryly. “There I can spend my time waiting profitably at least.”

Boromir shook his head. “My adar Lord Denethor has several men who report to him on the chief archivist’s staff, and I cannot afford the breach between him and I that Faramir willingly courts for you.”

“Ah.” The Wizard observed. “It is true that no one would think to look for me here. Where is your brother? He sent a message through Radagast that he had something for me.”

“Faramir couldn’t be here, he’s been made Captain of the Rangers in Ithilien.” Boromir explained, drinking thirstily. The young Lord looked to have just arrived from patrol, having taken the time to shed his armor but not to change clothes.

“Faramir? A captain already, so young?” The wizard commented, somewhat surprised.

His brother shrugged, “Fara is very clever, and quite good at being sneaky as well, for someone who prefers honesty. The effectiveness of the Ithilien rangers, and their rate of survival, has increased nearly two fold since the officers began implementing his suggestions. And that is despite increasing pressure on the borders from Mordor and Sauron’s allies. Father would do Faramir no special favors, but when both of the older captains next up for promotion with Ithilien experience, and Ithilien’s senior lieutenants, recommended Fara be promoted above them, so as to formalize the authority the senior Ithilien lieutenants had already granted him in fact, even Father ran out of objections.”

“Hmm.” The wizard commented, noting how Boromir, while clearly disapproving of Denethor’s attitude toward his younger brother, was careful not to openly criticize the Steward.

“Fara asked me to give you the information the Rangers have gained about several of the routes into and out of Mordor, and about the status of Sauron’s allegiances with the Haradrim and Easterlings.” Boromir said, handing the Wizard a leather satchel with about a thumb’s worth of papers inside.

Gandalf looked quickly over the coded notes in his old pupil’s handwriting, eyes widening. “How are they learning of dissension between the Haradrim and Sauron’s agents?”

Boromir grimaced, appearing a strange combination of proud and nauseated. “Fara and a friend of his have set up an informal network of informants.”

Gandalf, mentally reviewing the information contained in the notes, and how specific that information was as to the motivations, fears, and desires of some of those Haradrim commanders, and agents of Sauron, blanched. “Faramir is going among them, isn’t he? Does your stubborn fool of a brother have any idea how dangerous that is, should he be discovered?”

Boromir sighed deeply, and motioned the bar keep for another round of drinks.

“He does, Wizard.” Boromir explained grimly. “He was captured by them when a young lieutenant, and, though tortured, managed to convince them that he was a merchant in the service of an Easterling Lord, one whose loyalty he had won by speaking up for the man’s innocence when that merchant was accused of a crime whilst visitng Dol Amroth when we were children.” Boromir quickly drank his beer, hoping to banish the memory of his little brother at the mercy of Haradrim soldiers.

The Wizard snorted, and took a fortifying sip of the Gondorian ale Boromir had orderd for him. “I see, and this being Faramir, decided that since his story and bona fides had been established, it would be a waste not to continue using the identity.”

Boromir nodded regretfully. “Bought and paid for, said Faramir. Might as well not waste the gift, my manipulative baby brother insisted.”

Gandalf remarked mildly “Your brother’s antics, now that he has been set loose on the world, remind of an old elven saying about genius, that it means, first, a transcendent capacity for making trouble.”* Gandalf had always wondered if the elven seer who had coined that particular saying had done so after experiencing a premonition about the later existence of the Lord Elrond’s twin sons.

The older son of Denethor laughed loud and long. “In faith, Wizard, I think I may come to like you. You are one of the only people in the world who truly understands my troublesome, wonderful brother, and I thank you.”

Before they parted, Boromir gave to Gandalf the address of a mistress Nessanie on the third level of the city, explaining “Nessa can reach me, if you need to get in touch. She can reach Faramir, as well, and its best my Father doesn’t know we are still your friends.”

Though pleased to have the once-distant Boromir refer to them as friends, Gandalf still felt it his responsibility to chide the young human Lord. “Boromir,” the Wizard said sternly, “You are your father’s heir, meant to rule as Steward after him someday. You need a wife, not a mistress.”

Boromir’s face darkened. He glared at the Wizard for a moment, before his eyes softened as he explained. “She would be my wife if my father would agree. I’ll change his mind, given time, I think.”

As he rode away from Minas Tirith, Gandalf reflected sadly that Faramir perhaps knew their father better than Boromir, for all that the greater affection lay between the father and the eldest son.

**Author's Note:**

> *Paraphrased from Thomas Carlyle, Life of Fredrick the Great, Bk. IV, ch. 3 (1858–1865)


End file.
